


Who Do You Want Me To Be?

by flipflop_diva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets and drabbles about Steve and Natasha and the other Avengers. Some are connected, most are not. </p><p>Chapter 1: Natasha is very sensitive to people drinking OJ straight from the bottle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Do You Want Me To Be?

**Author's Note:**

> I have a ton of Steve/Nat ficlets and drabbles I've written for various landcomm challenges or prompts in various comms, so instead of bombarding you all with 100 different posts, I decided it's about time I just posted a collection. Most of them are completely unrelated, but a couple may connect with each other.
> 
> For Chapter 1, the theme was 'Cracky New Year's Resolutions' and my prompt was: _I won’t drink directly from the carton and then return it to the refrigerator._

“Who did it?” Natasha’s voice was low, but somehow, everyone heard her clear as if they were standing beside her, even those who didn’t have super hearing and were nowhere near the kitchen.

Of course, the one with the super hearing was standing right next to her, trying to look innocent as he cracked the eggs into the bowl for breakfast.

“Did what, Nat? Drank the orange juice?”

The glare she sent him would have been enough to send any normal man into the corner cowering in fear. But Steve wasn’t bothered. “How do you even know someone drank out of the bottle?” he asked her. “Maybe someone just drank it normally.”

She glared harder and shook the bottle she was holding in her hand at him for emphasis. “I just know,” she practically hissed. She turned her head to focus on Sam, who was sitting at the table working on his book of crossword puzzles Clint had given him for Christmas, quite obviously trying to ignore both of his friends.

“Sam?” she asked.

His head shot up instantly at that. “No,” he said quickly, hands going up into the air, palms forward, like he was surrendering to the police. “No, no, no. It was not me. I told you it was my New Year’s resolution to stop drinking from the bottle and putting in back in the fridge, and I am pleased to report that” — he checked his watch — “as of January fifth, I am still good on my word.”

“Wow,” Steve said dryly. “Five whole days.”

Sam ignored him, too busy focused on Natasha, who was still glaring. “It wasn’t me,” he protested again.

She seemed to believe him. She looked at Tony now, who was half hiding in the doorway trying to see if anyone was going to start throwing things or maybe sparring in the middle of his kitchen.

“Was it you?” she almost growled.

Tony’s eyes widened for a second, like he was confused how she saw him, but then he stepped into the kitchen, shaking his head. “I don’t even drink the orange juice,” he told her. “You guys always get the one with the pulp in it.” He made a face.

Natasha turned to Steve and cleared her throat loudly. He avoided her eyes.

“It was you!” It was not a question.

Steve didn’t look at her, but he did stop cracking eggs. “Oh, come on, Nat,” he said. “I can’t even get germs.”

“ _You_ can’t. That doesn’t mean the _rest of us_ can’t. We’re not all super soldiers and gods.” She smacked him hard on the shoulder.

“Jesus, Nat.” He rubbed his arm, looking at her now. “If I can’t get them, I can’t pass them on.”

“It’s unsanitary. And you promised me you’d stop.”

He frowned. “I did?”

She gritted her teeth. “The other night,” she said lowly, “when we were talking about resolutions? You promised you’d stop.”

“Oh,” Steve said, quickly looking back at the eggs to avoid her gaze. Apparently that wasn’t far enough away, though, because a few seconds later, he hurried to the other side of the kitchen on the ruse of trying to find some more ingredients.

At the table, Sam snorted. “You get he only said that because he wanted to have sex with you and you wouldn’t stop talking, right?”

For a moment, it was like no one moved. Or breathed. Then Natasha straightened her shoulders.

“Babe?” she asked, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Is that true?”

The guy with the super hearing did a great job of pretending he didn’t hear her. Half a second later, the knife embedded itself into the cabinets, less than a centimeter from his ear.

Steve never drank from the bottle of orange juice again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If anyone has any prompts of their own you'd like me to try, please feel free to offer some! I'm always on a search for new plot bunnies ;)


End file.
